


Intensity in Ten Cities

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Sex, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history of Clint and Natasha's relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intensity in Ten Cities

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Sarlaccvagina](http://sarlaccvagina.tumblr.com) on tumblr because we were talking about how most Clintasha stuff is angsty. This was meant to be a real PWP pornfest but writing het porn sort of wigs me out a bit so it's not as explicit as it was originally intended to be.
> 
> Beta read by [Dunicha](http://dunicha.tumblr.com).

1 - Minsk

 

Clint didn’t do a lot of these jobs. He was meant to get intel, play the stupid tourist out for a good time and find things out, but whoever they were had figured him out long before they even met. Still, she took him to a room and made nice. He wasn’t too good at the undercover stuff but flirting he could do. That smooth guy in nice pants he could do. ‘Just a lonely guy’ he could do til the cows came home. 

 

He realised it was going south but hell, they were already naked. She laughed and shook her head but kept going, fully aware that they were onto each other and noting it as the stalemate it was. No need to gather weapons or throw fists when it was obvious, so utterly obvious that they were equals. 

 

She was gone the next day, and sure, he said that she knew nothing but he’d have let her go even if she had. But for the will of fate he’d have been in her shoes, and he owed her that much, to not even watch as she left. 

 

“I didn’t have a chance, sir.”

 

 

2 - Chicago

 

A bar, just one of the dives no one would come looking for him in - sticky surfaces and stickier clientele. Just a nice place to get drunk. She somehow fitted in there, like she had in Minsk, like she would every other place she ever went. She was a chameleon. 

 

It didn’t make sense, why she sat down next to him, drank a beer and didn’t speak. 

 

“I let you go.” Why are you here?

 

She turned and looked at him like it was a surprise that he spoke at all. “Maybe I’ll let you go after too.”

 

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, following her out when she left. A hotel that felt out of time, decades removed from the modern city. It made it all unreal as she laid him out and catalogued every bit of him with eyes and tongue and teeth. 

 

When they were done she nodded towards the window and he took it as the invitation that it was. A knife flew out after him and he could still taste her on his breath as he slunk away into the night.

 

 

3 - San Moritz

 

He was meant to kill her. “We’ve let her go too many times,” they said, and he’d never even told them about Chicago. She fitted in here in this fucking ridiculous hotel, covered in furs and cashmere, the haughty Russian third wife of some asshole. She didn’t hide her smile when she saw Clint. Didn’t even run. She leaned over and whispered something to the man she was with and sashayed away. Clint was so transfixed that he didn’t even chase her right away. 

 

When he’d cornered her in an alley she had to have picked for pride’s sake as much as anything else, she didn’t point a weapon at him but looked him up and down and said, “Convince me.” 

 

It threw him, like she was always throwing him. “Here?” 

“You want me to come with you?” 

He nodded. 

“So show me why I should.”

 

He advanced on her, strong unwavering strides til he was close enough to thread his fingers into the back of her hair to tip her head back. He bent to drag teeth along her bared neck, the white of her skin glinting in the sharp yellow of a shop sign. She didn’t shudder or moan until he reached her ear and ghosted over it with his lips. 

 

“I already convinced you,” he whispered. “Two cities ago.” 

Her hand found it’s way into his hair and she was looking into his eyes again. “Convince me again.” 

 

 

4 - San Quentin

 

“She’s your responsibility,” they told her, like Natasha was some stray he’d found and begged to keep. But she was a model student that already knew everything and half as much more than everyone else. Friends were worthless time-wasters, but Clint wasn’t a friend. He was somehow already family, proven over the two times he hadn’t killed her and the one time she hadn’t killed him. It worked for him.

 

She’d show up in his quarters and work him hard til he’d wake up and she’d be riding him already, using him like this was his penance of bringing her somewhere so tedious and safe. As if he’d mind. He’d let her curl her tiny hands around his wrists and make him touch her where she wanted, slapping him away when she was done. She didn’t mind when he’d hold on and fuck her hard and fast before she got a chance to drag it out so torturously slow. “Like the alleyway,” they’d whisper if that’s how they wanted it. “Fuck me like you did in San Moritz.” It was the most exotic thing Clint had ever heard. 

 

 

5 - London

 

Another hotel; always tourists in the big cities. Easy to play dumb when you were new. They fucked long and slow like they did when they had the time, til Clint would had had enough and took what he wanted to Natasha’s laughter. 

It was a boring op, below the level of their talents really, so sloppiness had Clint getting shot in the leg. “They aren’t even supposed to have guns!”

“Stop complaining, it’s just a graze,” was about all the sympathy she’d ever given him. She patched him up and kept him safe, and when he was hard and aching later she took care of that too. “I can’t really return the favour,” he said while she sucked his dick. They’d always been so even before, both of them so careful not to run up a debt. “You’re good for it,” she answered, taking him back in her mouth. 

 

 

6 - Macau

 

“You idiot,” he said between gasps as they waited for people to run over the planks they hid beneath. “You’re bleeding.”

She shook her head like the wound seeping blood through her sleeve was so unimportant it was barely something to acknowledge. It was probably broken. 

 

The safehouse was incongruous with the rest of the place, modern and perfect like they were part of a brochure. He set her arm as she rolled her eyes and spat curse words, kissing her fingers when he was done. 

 

It was a few days later and she was irritable, annoyed at being unable to use her dominant hand for anything of use. “You wanna fuck?” he asked, the casual way they asked such things. She looked at him darkly with challenge in her eyes, purely so her response came out as something more than a plea. “Lick me,” she ordered. “With pleasure,” he said, and she kicked him til he stopped smirking and got to work instead.

 

 

7 - New Mexico

 

_\- I’m horny. Come here n suck my dick_

_\- who is this?_

_\- ha ha. ok send me a picture of your tits_

She actually did it. Grainy and washed out but _her_. 

_\- tell me you want me to fuck you_

_\- Clint, I dream of nothing else but riding your cock._

He came with her lies in the forefront of his mind, imagining her touching herself and touching him and wishing she was with him as he listened to the rain hammering into the windows.

 

 

 

8 - The Helicarrier 

 

Clint came to, bruised and ears ringing, bone-tired but zinging awake at the same time. Natasha was riding him and slapping him awake, and the warmth around his cock felt like home. “Nat?” 

“You’ve been out a couple hours,” she told him. It wasn’t til later everything else came out. It wasn’t til later he knew why she was fucking him _then_ , when the world was going to hell. “You alright?” he asked her, touching her skin and marvelling at just how perfectly smooth and warm it all was. She moved on him and took what she needed til crumpling over him and burying her face in his neck, holding on and telling him to fuck her as hard as he could.

 

 

9 - New York

 

The city was half in ruins and deserted but for helicopters sweeping the city for ever more impressive looking fires to feed to the news channels. They were both exhausted, from the weeks and months leading up to this collation of heroes and then the battle itself. They were walking it off as much as looking for survivors or alien stragglers til they came across an alleyway, the kind where kids get beat up in movies, the kind Clint first cornered Natasha in. 

 

It was wordless when they came together. Laughing and then crying and then too breathless to do either as Clint fucked her against the wall, brick dust scrubbing its way into their clothes as he moved, holding her up with the last reserves of strength he didn’t know he had. Without words they told each other just how happy they were to be alive, that the other was alive too, that they’d somehow made it through into this new world where the city was silent and empty and all for them. 

 

 

10 - 

 

“Who says I want to fuck you for a whole weekend?” 

“Nat. C’mon. It doesn’t need to be said.” 

She looked at the bags and the sunhat Clint had found in a thrift store: huge and floppy and awful except for how perfect she’d look in it. Hollywood perfect. He smirked and challenged her to refuse a free trip, an actual vacation on Stark’s dime. 

 

“I feel like I should be reading up on someone to kill,” she said when they were in the air, pink champagne and caviar since why the hell not? Clint laughed. “Me too.” 

 

They didn’t fuck in the air. It was Tony’s plane. 

 

But they fucked in the little cabin on stilts in the shallow sea, palm fronds and sunsets that it almost felt wrong to look at. Soft sheets and cool air and colder cocktails.

They fucked in the too-blue water, tiny colourful fish acting like it was nothing. 

 

They read up on local crime and figured out a few people to go fuck with if they got bored of sex, but they didn’t really. They’d break for food and sometimes swim, but the rest of the time they’d be on and in one another just for the hell of it. The staff asked if they were newlyweds and they laughed and laughed. “We were virgins when we met,” Clint promised. “She taught me everything I know.”


End file.
